Deja V
by Javanyet
Summary: The Visitors are back, and another rebellion must rise to fight them. Chapter 2: The business model of New World Security Systems has yielded some useful clients, and Angie's conversation with a refugee pornographer might yield some useful information.
1. Reboot

"I don't see her," Donovan scanned the crowded area, crammed with survivors. Some wounded, many merely dazed. He became aware he was speaking to empty air; Tyler seemed to have evaporated from where he'd stood a second ago. After another moment's scrutiny Donovan spotted a trio of people gathered near some damaged communications equipment. Tyler stood in front of a well-built woman with long dark hair, her face obscured as his hands framed it, their foreheads nearly touching. It was difficult to see which one was doing the talking, and who the woman was.

The answer came when the pair broke apart, and Tyler brought her back to where Mike stood.

"Donovan! I never thought I'd be so glad to see you!"

He was ambushed by her impulsive, powerful hug. "_Angie_?" She'd come a long way from the scraggly-headed scarecrow he'd last seen over a year ago. Then in spite of the circumstances, the smirk rose by reflex. "Thanks, I think."

She'd already turned away from him and back to Tyler. "I _did_ the lockdown," she insisted, "I hit the button, but it happened so _fast_, like nobody saw it coming, how come we didn't see it _coming_?"

Tyler shook his head. "New tech, _nobody_ knew."

Her veneer of calm wavered a bit. "Where's Reno?," Angie begged, and continued to explain as if an explanation were necessary. "When he signaled for lockdown I hit the button and I ran like _hell_, like I was supposed to, downstairs and out the underground door and into the back brush, I wanted to turn back and see who else got out, but I didn't. I ran and ran and finally found some other people and we came here. Where's everyone else?"

Donovan gulped, but Tyler spoke clearly. "Gone."

Mike looked away as Angie shuddered and Tyler once again took her face between his hands, but hard this time. "They're gone, Angel. You did it right, _everyone_ did it right, but the lizards went in too fast."

"_No,"_ Angie tried to pull away. "If we did everything _right_, where's Reno, where's _Chris_?"

Tyler didn't answer right away. They'd found the burnt remains of Reno's body, and the other security guards, but no trace of Farber. Which meant one of two things: he'd gotten away, or had been captured.

Donovan spoke up, "Farber got away, looks like. No trace of him, so he must have gotten away."

"Or they took him alive," Angie countered. "I don't want to think about that… yeah, I think he got away too." The last part was said with more hope than certainty.

Before she could continue Tyler told Angie in chill voice, "Reno's dead. He and most of the others caught the first wave."

"No-no-_no_!" Angie yanked up and down on Tyler's jacket, but didn't seem to know what to do next.

"Let's find a corner or something," Tyler muttered. Not waiting for a suggestion, he grabbed Angie's hand and dragged her back in the direction he and Donovan had come from. They'd passed some sort of shitty little storage room on the way in, nothing much in it but space without people. By the time they got inside and Donovan hit the light switch and shoved the door closed behind them Angie was in control of herself again. The year or so since Liberation was time enough for most of the scars to heal and for the hard places to soften up a little, so Mike was a little surprised to see her shaking off the shock already. Or maybe it just hadn't hit her yet… like it hadn't hit the others milling around in the outer rooms. He sat quietly on an empty crate in a corner, trying to give Tyler and Angie at least an illusion of a little privacy. Then he realized he didn't have to bother… they were as good at making their own privacy as they ever were.

The knot in Tyler's gut had been obvious for the past two days as he and his old nemesis and ally had fallen back into the running and dodging that had become familiar to them long before the Visitors first arrived. The running and dodging was familiar, sure, but this time the stakes were much higher. Though he was as restrained as usual, the relief when he saw Angie across that roomful of refugees hit him like a wave. He kept hold of her hand as they sat on the concrete floor, telling himself it was to reassure her.

"S'okay, Angel, you're okay," he repeated to her like a mantra, reassuring himself as much as her. "Can you remember what happened?"

"I was feeding Max," Angie recounted in a steadying voice, "and I heard the lockdown alarm. But it just didn't register, you know? Then there was this buzzing, and then Reno was on the intercom because he could tell I hadn't hit the switch yet, 'Goddammit _lockdown_ baby!' he yelled…" Here she paused half smiled at Tyler, "you know how he always called me 'baby' like you'd get jealous or something…"

"Yeah, a real wiseass," Tyler nodded, with a pained smile of his own that was masking things Donovan didn't even want to know about, much less see. Suddenly Angie erupted in panic and jerked her hand out of Tyler's grip.

"_Max_, my God I didn't look for Max!" and she almost broke down.

Max was the orange tiger tomcat that Elias had managed, on Tyler's behalf, to score for Angie; it was a combination wedding present and the housewarming gift she swore she needed to convince her that the war was over. To "warm" the house that was a custom-designed armed compound. It had done the trick, and Angie doted on the cat as if it were a good luck charm, the essence of what made the place a home. Tyler referred to Max with a variety of joking euphemisms, but Angie loved that "striped lizard bait" so much he made a serious effort to treat it decently. Thank God, Max had sense enough not to mistake decency for affection. For a cat, he had some smarts, and Tyler could respect that. At the moment, though, the missing Max threatened to unravel Angie in a way that other recent events had failed to do.

"Settle down," Tyler urged, "that beat up old rat chaser has been through worse than a lizard air raid, I bet he's already fighting 'em for the best vermin."

"You think maybe?" she asked, eyes wide.

"I know definitely. Max has it made in the shade compared to us, he's gonna find what he needs by instinct. You and Gooder and me, _we_ gotta figure out what the Lizards are planning."

Angie was sitting next to him, leaning forward on her drawn up knees. She nodded, and mused, "Wonder where they're based now? The Mother ship is locked up tight. Somebody would've seen a new one in orbit. There had to be some who adapted to the salt content in the atmosphere and all… maybe they were laying low, working on an antidote or something." She looked up at Mike and Tyler. "Maybe Boston, or whatever they're calling it now. It's the only place they totally blew away and rebuilt from scratch… who knows what got left behind nobody knew about?"

Donovan was taken aback. It was a strange thing to be regrouping and reaching for strategy so quickly. Living a real life had been replacing survival for a while now, and the change this time was violently abrupt, none of the subtle advance of the first invasion. For himself and Tyler, the last invasion and the war that followed was a new version of an old game. By contrast, Angie's transformation had been brutally rapid. He'd figured that by now she'd probably have fallen back into Normal with a vengeance, determined never to return to the hell she'd passed through. But there she was in front of him, dirty and bruised and, except for the panic over her cat, grimly composed. She was shifting gears faster than he'd expected would be possible.

She caught him staring. "I'm okay," she told him, refusing to be subtle. "Just a little shook up."

Mike masked his embarrassment by jerking a thumb toward her as he observed to Tyler, "Real badass, must be the company she keeps."

"I was badass before you _met_ me," she advised.

Mike rose to peer out the door before answering. "Nice to see _some_ things haven't changed. Way you said hello, you had me worrying you might get all warm and fuzzy with me." When he looked back, Angie's head was down, and she said something only Tyler could hear.

"If you've got ideas, speak up," Donovan told her. When she lifted her head, her expression was bitter.

"I said, 'I don't know if I can do this again'." She eyed Mike sharply and cut off whatever he was about to say. "Don't pretend you don't have that in your head too. You're not that good a liar. And you," she directed at Tyler, who had stood and pulled her to her feet, "you know that _I_ know." The edge disappeared, replaced by weary resolve. "Not doing is not an option." She dropped her head back, staring at something beyond the ceiling, and heaved a sigh. "Who knew there'd be so many 'other sides' to get to."

Tyler opened the door and led the way out into the crowded room. "Maybe someone out here knows which way we go to look for the new one. Angel, see if you can find any of my old clients… if they survived long enough to get here, they're sure to be satisfied customers. Gooder and me, we'll work the crowd for general intel. We'll meet up back at the storage room in half an hour."

Ham Tyler's consulting company New World Security Systems had been better than a guaranteed moneymaker since the Liberation. It had provided a useful client base of people well-connected in some of the more familiar of Tyler's previous endeavors. Because you never know when things can turn on a dime and come charging back at you.

Tyler extended his left hand so Angie check her high-end timepiece against his own. He'd had them both custom made in Switzerland (where else?), multi-function, shock proof in every sense of the word, and 100% stone-cold accurate. Checking they were in synch was more of a ritual than a necessity.

Ritual complete, Angie gave a nod of satisfaction. "Okay. Now you mention it, I think I saw that paranoid Jackie Bowdoin cowering in a corner somewhere…" One of Ham's first clients, Bowdoin was a low-rent porno prince with a very high rent bankroll. He was convinced that the Liberation would lead to a cultural-moral cleansing that had him in its cross-hairs and was determined to defend his empire in every way possible. Sleazy he was, but useful he was as well. He'd be sure to have had his sweaty hand on the pulse of a potential Visitor revival. She took off in search of him.

Tyler picked a small group of intensely conversing survivors out of the crowd, and started walking. "C'mon, let's troll for some new rebel talent. Pay's low, but the benefits are a plus."

Mike laughed darkly in agreement. "Yeah that's a bonus… _survival_. There's another thing that never changes."


	2. All in a day's work

The business model for New World Security systems had been kept pretty simple.

Step #1: Angie did the cold calling based on Ham and Chris's leads. In the weeks and months after the liberation it was hard to find anyone with a bankroll or a business (legitimate or il-) who _wasn't_ paranoid as hell and desperate for protection. Add to that the fact that nobody trusted anybody to do the protecting _for _them, and you had a crop of ready-made consumers of custom designed security systems.

Step #2: Ham and Chris visited the prospects and basically just scared the living shit out of them by listing every single way they could be robbed, kidnapped, murdered, or otherwise interfered with in their current surroundings, and who would profit by it.

Step #3: Ham's longtime buddy and technical analyst extraordinaire Reno would do a detailed, stone-cold map-out of what needed to be done to prevent said robbery/kidnap/murder and interference, including materials, labor, and an estimate of what the ongoing operation and staffing would cost. Staffing was strictly the customer's concern. "More security for you," Ham would tell the customers. "No chance of a lawsuit if they're more crooked than the boss," Angie would tell Ham, "Win/win".

Step #4: Installation was undertaken by Ham and Chris, and _only _by them. This meant that one job had to be completed before another was started, but the unholy amounts of money being showered on them for the privilege of survival made that a moot issue.

Step #5: Angie took over to do her damnedest to undo, weasel around, outsmart, or just plain break whatever had been accomplished. Ham had promised her Geek Heaven, and delivered it in spades. Every computerized and low-tech means was at her disposal; all she had to do was shift her brain into Sneaky and go wild. Once the dust settled (and sometimes there _was_ dust, after a controlled explosion or two), the weaknesses discovered would be corrected.

Step #6: Repeat steps 4 and 5 until Angie could no longer find a breach to exploit.

It worked like magic, and the money rolled in.

No matter how "friendly" any male client might become when he saw that the Geek Squad was a reasonably attractive brunette, a flash of her shoulder holster took over where the wedding ring left off. The first time she'd asked Ham about how to handle such things, his advice was to the point. "Blow 'em away. We don't need the business that bad." She'd never had to pull it, but no testosterone-fueled client doubted that she would. Not many men would try to mess with Ham Tyler's wife, whether or not he was around to see it.

Likewise, not many "friendly" female clients would bother to continue a come-on to Tyler after being on the receiving end of the up-and-down cold shower of a glance that was always followed by "Now why would I go for pond water when I have champagne at home?" With a look and a line like that, Tyler didn't need a wedding ring _or _a shoulder holster to keep the bimbos at bay.

Now, with everything coming full circle, Tyler's observation was dead-on. Any customer still standing would be a satisfied one. If they weren't going to be useful someday they'd never have made it into the Rolodex.

* * *

Angie had no great love for Jackie Bowdoin, but she'd come to know the guy was more pathetic than truly sleazy. At the age of fifty-five, he was single, straight, and friendless. Angie saw him pretty much as a permanent teenager who shares his dad's dirty magazines in a desperate ploy to be popular. Jackie had managed to parlay that insecurity into a multimillion dollar business. But the poor man still yearned to be popular, and it just wasn't gonna happen. Nevertheless, he was honest (within certain parameters) and after their first meeting treated Angie with professional respect. Well the respect jumped up when she saw him peering down her neckline as she bent over his computer, and she stood up quickly enough to flash the shoulder holster under her jacket. Now she almost felt sorry for the guy, standing in a corner on his own, not even able to find common ground with fellow refugees.

"Mr. Bowdoin, I'm glad to see you made it out in one piece." She called all the clients Mr. or Ms. Most of them ended up calling her Angie, sooner or later.

"Mrs. Tyler!" He always addressed her as Mrs. Tyler, though she'd never changed her name (even if there had been somewhere to do it). "I guess you could call this a model endorsement." His weak smile faded immediately, replaced by a look of genuine concern. "And your husband? And Mr. Farber?"

Angie almost smiled. _Still a teenage dork. _Everyone was Mr. or Mrs. or Miss to Bowdoin. Sometimes she wondered if he had even one friend close enough to call by a first name. "He's okay. The stormtroopers hit our place pretty bad, I was able to get out. Ham was in town, I think. All I know is he found me here."

"And Mr. Farber? And Mr. Sinclair?" Bowdoin persisted. Angie had barely known Reno had a last name until they began doing business with Jackie Bowdoin.

She tried to keep it detached. "We haven't found Chris yet." _Dead or alive_. "Reno... I mean Mr. Sinclair..." Here Angie had to gulp a breath. She really hadn't absorbed it yet, and really wasn't ready to say it out loud, but had no choice. "He didn't make it, Ham told me that when he went to the compound to look for me, he saw most of our staff were caught in the attack. They came in from above, you know, and the guys were outside, I don't know how they beat our warning systems, Ham said they have new tech or something, I don't know... I locked down but I don't know who else got out..."

A pornographer Jackie was, but he also was a human being. At least he'd tried to keep that part of himself intact. He'd never sunk to the level of torture or rape porn, just "plain dirty pictures and movies", in fact the name of his company was Old School Adult Entertainment Distributors. He respected women, in his way, and thought of them as equal partners in his business (though most of them were just pictures to him). And he genuinely liked this somewhat shady band of professionals who had built him a solid barricade against the world that he'd never managed to create on his own. He reached a hesitant hand out to touch Angie's arm.

"I'm sorry about your friends. It's the way of war, isn't it, the best people don't always get out alive."

Angie was a little ashamed... she'd forgotten that this awkward man had sheltered many members of the resistance and even had stored their weapons and supplies in his warehouses scattered around the city.

"Thank you, Mr. Bowdoin. You're right. It always sucks, doesn't it." Again, his reaction almost pulled a smile from her. He always looked a little taken aback when her language got colorful. She always tried to keep it professional while on the job, but could be heard swearing like a sailor under her breath when this or that application or operation didn't go as she wanted, and being her first job Bowdoin heard enough to set his ears on fire. "But we don't have time to play catch-up or boo-hoo... tell me, what have you heard about this new wave? It's not nearly as subtle as the first one."

Glad to be moving to more comfortable territory, he observed, "It didn't have to be. Fool us twice, and all that. But my East coast providers had caught something in the wind, so to speak, a few weeks ago. It just didn't make sense until now..."

Angie learned things it would have taken her, Ham, and Mike days if not weeks to gather on their own. Not a lot, but a start. It was true, there is no common denominator like porno to bring together every imaginable type of business and person. Everyday people doing everyday business, everywhere you could think of... the product just happened to involve the exploits of lots of naked people and the customers cut across every class, color, and career. Jackie had connections in the "hardcore" branch of the business, he just didn't ship their product. Right now, though, they were the most valuable connections to have. To gather information on unsavory activities required unsavory sources. As often was the case, New York and New Jersey combined as regional mecca for Unsavory, second only to Chicago. Behind every cliche was the reality that birthed it.

After Bowdoin told her all he knew for the moment, Angie shook his hand. "Thanks a million, Mr. Bowdoin."

"Hey, maybe it's okay now to call me Jackie, considering..." He looked around at the ragged crowd that surrounded them.

"Fine by me, Jackie. You can call me Angie, you know? Seriously, Ham is not gonna mind." Bowdoin looked caught out. Angie always had known that Bowdoin bore a secret fear of triggering some dark jealousy in Tyler if he seemed too friendly with her. She never bothered to convince him otherwise, mostly because she knew that Bowdoin would be mortified to know he was so transparent. Before he could lock up in embarrassment she added, "Look, you gonna be okay? You got somewhere safe to go? I'm meeting Ham and a friend and we're gonna figure out where to go next."

He looked surprised. "I don't know if that would be okay with..."

Angie stood up straighter and looked him in the eye. "If I say it's okay, it'll be okay with them."

"Hmm, no, I think it would be better if I went back to my office building and get re-oriented. It wasn't badly damaged. Honor among thugs, and all that."

Now Angie had to laugh out loud. "Mr. Bowdoin... I mean Jackie... a purveyor of Prime Slime you may be, but a thug? That'd take more practice than you have time for. Okay then, be careful, and we know where to find you if we need to."

"Take care, Mrs. Tyler. I'll see what else I can find out."

Before she could say, "Call me Angie," he had disappeared into the crowd. Angie glanced at her watch... five minutes to meet-up. As she headed for the door to get some fresh air, she hoped that Ham and Mike had had some luck finding fellow travelers. That would mean a safe place to stay, maybe something resembling a bed to sleep on. When she got outside she was overcome by a rush of... _everything._ She groped for the door-frame to steady herself. Chris, and Reno... _Mr. Sinclair didn't make it._

A long time ago she and Ham had divided up their personal responsibilities according to who was best suited to handle them. Like the tactical analysis, construction, and computer stuff, each of them handled the load of loss and grieving differently. Ham would never wear that kind of thing on his sleeve, no matter how deeply he felt it. So it was decided: "Listen up, Angel. When everything goes to hell, hardass logic'll be my job. Crying'll be your job. Some things deserve tears, but mine got burned outta me a long time ago."

Right now, Angie didn't think even she had enough to give Reno what he deserved.


End file.
